


Joust Murder

by Lady10



Category: CSI: Miami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady10/pseuds/Lady10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Artistic Director of a local Renaissance Faire is murdered, it's up to the Miami Dade crime lab to find out who did it!J</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Joust Murder

Author's note: The Faire folk in this story are based on real persons, dear friends of  
mine whom I work with at our local Renaissance Faire. The names of the  characters that  
they portray have not been changed, as they are actual historical persons, but their real 

names have, mostly to protect the guilty. Face it, they're my friends...they are not  
innocent. Much valued, much loved, but definitely not innocent.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------  
This fic comes with a dictionary for those unfamiliar with certain terms and articles of  
clothing worn in the 16th Century.

Addle-pated- a few fries short of a Happy Meal  
A.P.Q.- Actress Portraying Queen  
Attifet- a style of women's head dressing that is heart-shaped and often trimmed with  
lace.  
Bodice- a woman's garment, much like a vest and can either be laced up the front or the  
back.  
Bumroll- a stuffed crescent shaped pad that goes around a woman's waist to help support  
the weight of the skirts.  
Chemise- a unisex long sleeved shirt. There are three major kinds:  
A. Noble- open fronted, tied high necked and ruffled at the wrists and neck  
B. Common man- less high necked with no ruffles and closed most of the way down the  
front.  
C. Common woman- scoop necked and closed fronted. Often referred to as wench wear.  
Certes- certainly  
Corset- a woman's garment that is heavily stiffened and boned. It is also called a pair  
of bodies. This garment is the precursor to the bra and is laced up the back and is used  
to give support to a woman's back to help carry the weight of the gown.  
Doublet- either men's or women's suit jacket  
Farthingale- hoop skirt worn under the women's skirts. Along with the bumroll, it helps  
to support the weight of the skirts.  
Overskirt- the top layer of skirt worn.  
Partlet- a small, yet highly decorated, covering over the top of a woman's bodice,  
usually to help keep her warm.  
Venetians- Mens' short pants. They are roomy and are gathered in a leg band just below  
the knee.  
Slops- Also known as “pumpkin pants”. The are a precursor to modern shorts, often filled  
with bombast of some kind (Wool and straw were the most common) and can either be plain  
or panes with decorative contrasting strips of fabric at intervals.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

\----------------------------------

 

                                                        Joust Murder  
                                            Chapter 1  
   
   
Almost everyone had gone for the night, either home, to a local motel or the Truckers  
Association, or TA, for a quick shower and a hot meal.  The final, frantic rehearsal of  
the principal players had been over for an hour already.  Scott Friedman began his  
customary nightly rounds just to make sure everything was locked up tight for the night.  
Tomorrow was Opening Day and he wanted everything to be perfect when the season’s first  
patrons walked through that front gate.  
He patrolled the New Market area, stopping only to gaze up at the newly installed  
Dreadnought, the full scale recreation of an Elizabethan era naval vessel. He let himself  
have the luxury of imagining himself thrown back in time. He was a seasoned sailor ready  
to embark upon the high seas to defend the tiny island nation of England against the  
might of Spain; to fight for Queen and country the highest honor he could have.  
Shaking his head, he brought himself out of his reverie and continued along, crossing  
the  bridge into the thrill ride area, past the Royal Menagerie and onto the High Street  
area. He stood at the top of the hill and looked down both sides of the wide street, each  
shop closed up tight for the night. A couple of pale lights glimmered from second floor  
living quarters above a few shops. Passing Lord Mayor’s Forum and into the Sun Garden,   
Scott saw that peace reigned supreme. He followed into the Faerie Bower and the Celtic  
encampment. He stopped at the Commons stage and made certain that the Fight Cast’s things  
were all functioning properly and secured for the night.  
He turned and made for the Dirty Duck Inn and then through the meadow toward the joust  
field.  He was just waving a good-night to a merchant closing the front of his newly  
constructed shop when he heard the sound of hoof beats on the soft sand of the joust  
field. He looked over; plumes of dust glowed in the swiftly fading light.  
“What the-“ Scott muttered as he trotted down the steep hill.  
A form, mounted on one of the joust horses, rode the oval. The figure was clad in  
ill-fitting armor; the colors silver and green. The figure fired a crossbow at a  
stationary target.  
“Hey! Hey Carl! It’s getting too dark for this! Pack it in for the night, will ya?” Scott  
hollered, dumbfounded why Carl would endanger himself and Bo for a couple of minutes  
extra practice when there wasn’t enough light. “You know Dave will have kittens if he  
finds out. Practice in the morning.”  
The Knight wheeled his horse around, aimed the bow and fired, the bolt burying itself  
squarely in Scott’s neck; a killing blow.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------   
   
“His name is Robert Scott Friedman, 41, Artistic Director of SFRF,” Horatio said, rising  
from the victim and addressing his team. Dawn light had barely begun to pink the sky.  
“The security Chief found him during morning rounds 45 minutes ago. The murder weapon  
appears to be a bow of some kind.” Although it was a tad too early to need them, he  
placed his sunglasses on his face anyway. “Looks like it’s time to get Medieval.”  
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------  
   
“This is a murder investigation, ma’am. You can’t open today. My team needs to process  
the entire scene,” Horatio said, hands on hips, pushing back his suit jacket, revealing  
his badge and firearm.  
“Look, Lieutenant, I don’t mean to be difficult, but I have no choice. The owners in  
Kansas City have instructed me to open those gates at ten o’clock, no matter what. If we  
don’t open today, then we won’t be able to open at all.  Scott wouldn’t have wanted that.  
The only reason that we can open this season is because we were open last season. Nobody  
opens a Renn. Faire to get rich. It’s just enough to stay even. We’re season to season.  
I’ve instructed my security team to give you whatever help you need, but those gates have  
to open at ten,” the woman said. She was Lisa Peters, the Faire’s general manager. “It’s  
beyond comprehension why anyone would want to kill Scott, but my hands are tied. I’m  
sorry.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------   
   
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll have to divide up to interview, get DNA samples and  
print,” Horatio told his team. They had briefly taken up residence in an on site pub  
called the Pig ‘n Whistle. “Natalia, you have Kids’ Kingdom, merchants that stayed on  
site last night and the Town Criers. Mr. Wolfe, you have the Maypole Mayhem, Street  
Troupe and the Fantasticals; Eric, the Fight Cast, Joust Troupe and Military; Calleigh,  
Guilde of St. George, which is the Royal Court, Guilde of St. Lawrence, which is at the  
Dirty Duck Inn and Celtic Connections at the Croft. Frank and I are taking the management  
staff, grounds crew and security.”  
Calleigh paged through her file. “I’m not complaining, but my list looks like the white  
page section of the Miami phone book. How am I supposed to get all these people swabbed,  
printed and interviewed before 10; that’s three hours away.”  
 “Just how many people work here?” Natalia asked, her own list looking suspiciously phone  
book like.  
Horatio checked his numbers on the faire employed list. “Nearly 1,000 people. Calleigh,  
Ms. Peters suggests that you start with the Court troupe, or Guilde of St. George. They  
have a call time of 7:45 so you’ll have a little time to start the process before the  
Faire opens. This goes for all of you; concentrate on the ones that are supposed to be  
here this weekend. We’ll deal with the others later. Pop the laptops and get started.  
Someone decided to play William Tell. He’s had his Overture, let’s get him before he has  
a first act.”  
   
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------   
   
Sara Wisdom rubbed her eyes. “S'cuse me?”

“I said I'm Natalia Boa Vista from the Miami Dade Crime Lab. There was a homicide here  
last night. Robert Scott Friedman was killed. I understand that you and your husband  
stayed here last night. Did you see or hear anything that might help in the  
investigation?” Natalia said pleasantly. 

“Where are my manners? Please, come upstairs. Outside of going out to eat, Mike and I  
were here all night.” Sara said, ushering Natalia up a narrow stairway to the living  
quarters above the shop. To Natalia's surprise, it was comfortable and welcoming. There  
was even furniture that were not your garden variety folding chairs. Sara indicated a  
plush bean bag chair. “Please have a seat.” Sara raised her voice. “Mike, we have  
company. We'll need more coffee.”

“Really, it's not necessary,” Natalia said, not wanting to put anyone out.

“It's no trouble at all. Mike and I want to help in any way we can, although it's hard to  
believe that someone would kill Scott.” Sara said as Mike entered carrying three  
beautiful ceramic mugs. He handed one to Sara, one to Natalia and kept one for himself.

Natalia looked the man over. He was already dressed for the day in a natural color linen  
chemise with beautiful Celtic embroidery running down both sleeves. Over this he wore a  
front lacing leather vest in medium brown. He also wore venetians and tights. On his feet  
were leather shoes that looked properly period for the 16th Century.

“I saw Scott last night as I was closing up the front of the shop. I waved to him. He  
seemed to be headed down to the joust field,” Mike said sipping his own coffee.

“Did you see anything after that, Mr. Wisdom?”

“No, I didn't. Sara and I went to dinner right after that. We took the high road right in  
back of the shop and it was already dark when we got back. I wish I could be of more  
help,” Mike said, buttering some toast. “I wish I knew more. Scott was a pretty nice guy.  
He drove plenty of people nuts during rehearsals, but I don't think anyone in the cast  
killed him.”

“Why is that?” Natalia asked, accepting some toast and butter.

Sara shrugged. “Rennies may be a lot of things, but these people are not killers.  
Everyone is too much of a family.”

“Would you care for breakfast, Ms. Boa Vista?” Mike offered cordially.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------

By 8:30 a.m. The Crime Lab team had assembled under the first aide tent behind the Globe  
Stage where the all cast morning meeting would take place in a half an hour.

“I've never met a more co-operative group of people in my life. The Military group  
offered up fingerprints and information on themselves without my asking for it. It seems  
that with the exception of the children, every one of them should be in AFIS. They own  
and operate 16th Century firearms and have to be registered and printed,” Eric said,  
sitting down. “Those people know volumes about firearms. Calleigh, when this  
investigation is over, you need to go talk to them.”

Natalia sat next to him. “Tell me about it. I've had to accept three breakfasts, four  
offers of tea or coffee and a couple of sweet rolls from the merchants I interviewed.  
They're falling over themselves to help.”

Both Ryan and Calleigh nodded in agreement They each had experienced the same thing.  
“It's not a put on, either. These people are genuinely upset, “ Calleigh said.

Horatio leaned against the first aide trailer, sunglasses covering his eyes. “So we have  
an eager and co-operative suspect pool that is killing us with kindness and generosity.”

Natalia stifled a small burp. “And hospitality; let's not forget that.” 

“You know, if I didn't need to look on every one of them as a potential killer, I'd  
believe them all.” Ryan offered.

“Well, we'll get to talk to them enmasse at their morning meeting,” Horatio informed  
them. In truth, he had found the same attitude and willingness from everyone he  
interviewed. For a nearly 1,000 soul organization they lived and breathed as one  
organism; one soul, if only for the weekend.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------------------

 

“Good morning, everyone!”

“Good morning, Lisa!” the near 1,000 voice greeting died as surely as the Artistic  
Director had.

“Alright, by now all of you have heard that Scott was killed last night. Today isn't  
going to be easy and none of our hearts are in this, but we're going to have to do our  
best to give our patrons as good a show as we can.” Lisa said. She gestured to Horatio.  
“This is Lt. Horatio Caine from the Miami Dade Crime Lab. He and his team will be  
investigating the murder. I know I don't have to ask this, but please give Lt. Caine and  
his team all the co-operation you can. Thanks.”

Lisa stepped back and Horatio took a few steps forward. “Good morning everyone-”

“Good morning, Lt. Caine...Nice hair!” they chorused. A few chuckles were heard.

Horatio looked over at Lisa with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged. “It's just their way of welcoming you. Go with it.”

Horatio cleared his throat. “Thank you. My team and I will be fingerprinting, getting DNA  
samples and interviewing each of you. This is for exclusionary purposes. We are mindful  
of your performance schedules and will try to disrupt things as little as possible. For  
now, we'll begin with those scheduled early and work from there. If there is anything  
that will camouflage us to the patrons, please let us know and we will do our best to  
comply.”

There was silence for a long moment as the reality of what Horatio said sank in to the  
cast. A lone voice started the chant. “Share it; dress them up!” Soon a dozen, then  
several dozen, then the entire cast took up the chant. “Share it; dress them up!”

Lisa shrugged. “The people have spoken.”

“Vox populi.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Calleigh looked at her wardrobe, skepticism plain on her face. She was never going to fit   
into that bodice; the circumference was terribly small. “You've got to be kidding me. I'm   
not going to wear that, am I? That's never going to fit.” 

They were on the second floor of the wardrobe area, better known as the Costume Shop.   
Sewing machines and sergers lined a few tables. Piles of fabric cluttered the corners.   
Calleigh fought a sneeze at all the fabric dust in the air. 

A trim, fit man in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline looked her up and down,   
appraising her in the most professional of manners. “Trust me, I've been doing this   
longer than you think and I know what will fit you like a dream. Don't worry, I'll dress   
you. Time to get naked.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He handed her a white open fronted chemise, knee high stockings in the same color as the   
gown and a pair of white bloomers. “Change your clothes. Go behind the screen if you're   
shy, but it doesn't matter to me. I've seen more naked bodies than I ever care to admit;   
I've been doing this a long time.” 

Calleigh eyed him and then took the proffered clothes, stepping behind the screen,   
feeling extremely self-conscious and vulnerable. To cover her nervousness, she said,   
“You're a Southern boy, but not from around here.” 

Tom Hicks chuckled, realizing how uncomfortable the woman must be at the moment. This had   
to be an experience very much outside her realm of knowledge. “Raleigh, North Carolina.   
How about you, Scarlett? That's not a Florida accent.” 

“Darnell, Louisiana, about four and a half hours northeast of New Orleans. It's not   
Mississippi, but you can see it from there.” Calleigh said, feeling a little better; the   
small talk giving her a chance to get to know the man that was going to be dressing her   
in the most outlandish outfit she had ever worn. She pulled on the stockings. “I went to   
school in New Orleans, though; Tulane.” 

“I went to the University of North Carolina. I got my Masters in Costume Design,” he   
replied, smoothing out a small wrinkle in the emerald green velvet overskirt. He frowned   
at it when it refused to budge. “I minored in theater. How about you?” 

“I got my degree in Physics with a minor in Neurophysiology,” Calleigh supplied, stepping   
from behind the screen. She clutched the chemise closed at the chest, feeling rather   
exposed. 

Tom flicked his gaze over at her and sighed. It was always the same with the   
first-timers. “Drop the bra, sweetie. You won't need it. You have a corset.”   
   
Calleigh opened her mouth to protest, but she realized that she didn't really have the   
time to fuss and argue with the man, particularly since she had several hundred potential   
suspects to still interview. She ducked back behind the screen and complied. She stepped   
back out and approached him, feeling extremely shy again. “Alright, what do we do now?”  
   
He held up her corset, sliding the straps up over her arms and helping her adjust the   
chemise so that it sat smoothly against her skin. “This goes on first. I'm going to lace   
you and then I'll tighten it down. This is not used to constrict your breathing or make   
your waist look smaller, but to give support to your frame so that you'll be able to bear   
the weight of the gown better. You're going to find it a little uncomfortable at first.   
Just breathe normally and trust me.” 

Calleigh gasped as he began to tighten the lacings. She fought panic as her manner of   
breathing gradually changed to adjust to the pressure of the garment. Finally, she was   
tied off. 

“You did that well. I've had ladies face that less bravely. Ok, now we put on the   
farthingale. This is going to help support the weight of your skirts and keep them from   
tangling up between your legs.” He lifted the conical garment over her head and fastened   
it at her waist. “It's flexible so it's not going to go flying up in the air when you sit   
down like a Carol Burnett comedy sketch. Ask any of the Court Ladies to show you the best   
way to cope with a wide load. Next is the bumroll. This is also going to support the   
weight of your skirts. It'll take it off your waist and lower back and place it on the   
hips, which are sturdier.” 

As he tied the crescent shaped roll around her waist, she asked, “You keep referring to   
the weight of the skirts. Just how much am I going to be carrying around with me? Is this   
going to interfere with my job here in any way? If I have to chase a suspect down-” 

“Lift your skirts by the farthigale's boning and go. All in all, the entire thing is   
about 27 pounds. Trust me, honey, you won't notice the weight. It's far easier to wear   
than carry.” Tom said, lifting the petticoat with a beautifully decorated triangle of   
honey gold fabric on it. It was richly embroidered with gold threads, faceted crystals   
and pearls. He lifted the skirt over her head and fastened it at her waist, the bumroll   
making the obvious weight almost nothing. He pushed down on the padding, making sure   
everything settled in right before swirling the emerald green overskirt around her, tying   
it off at the waist. It settled in rich, majestic folds around her, framing the forepart   
perfectly, the farthingale holding it away from her legs. He slid the matching emerald   
green and gold trimmed bodice up over her arms, lacing it shut up the back with a   
gossamer golden ribbon. He fussed with her appearance for a few moments before stepping   
back, apparently satisfied with his work. He had to admit, even though she struck him as   
a beautiful woman when she entered, she was simply stunning now, the emerald of the dress   
drawing out the emerald of her eyes and setting her blonde hair off like a golden halo.   
“You're a vision.”

“I feel like a sausage,” Calleigh said, looking down at what she could see of herself. It   
was all very different and surreal. She could barely feel the weight of the gown at all.   
“Am I done now? I have a suspect pool and-” 

“You still have your hair to deal with,” A female voice said from behind her. Calleigh   
attempted to whip around and see who the voice belonged to, but the dress prevented her   
from doing so. “Hi, I'm Kathryn. Tom asked me to do your hair. Just sit down. This won't   
take long. I'm in the Court so you can actually get my interview over with while I do   
your hair.” 

Calleigh sighed, sat down and let the plump, pleasant looking woman brush out her hair.   
At least she'd get one interview done before she met with the rest of the team.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\---------------------------------- 

 

“I'm wearing what?” Ryan asked incredulously, standing in the downstairs costume area of   
the Globe Theater. He eyed the multicolored tights, fool's hat and particolored tunic   
with a great deal of suspicion.   
Tom sighed. If Calleigh had been a little difficult, this guy was going to be a handful.   
“Look, you're part of Maypole Mayhem and the only costume I have left is the Hobby Horse.   
It's a really traditional part played in historical English folk traditions. Besides,   
Mitch took the weekend off for his daughter's wedding.” 

“Yeah, but....” Ryan said, taking in the plush horse's body he would have to carry around   
on him all day. “How am I supposed to move with that thing on me?” 

“I've already explained to Calleigh when I dressed her that she'd be able to move very   
naturally if the need arose. Ryan, the only other costume I can have for you is that of   
the town privy cleaner. I can have Steve switch and be the Hobby Horse, but you'd be   
sitting inside of a large wooden toilet all day. I can't think of how you're supposed to   
interview anyone in that,” Tom said, watching the mildly disgusted reaction Ryan had when   
he heard the words 'wooden toilet'. 

“You don't have any fools' costumes left?”   
Tom shook his head. “Just my own and you're not going to fit in it; you're too tall. Get   
dressed and I'll be back to help you put the horse's body on. I have to change clothes.”   
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
\-----------------------

 

Horatio leaned against the first aid trailer, sunglasses in hand, looking cool and   
comfortable in his Security tan and whites, his firearm and badge clearly visible. Frank   
looked just as comfortable in his matching uniform. Horatio watched as each of his team   
trickled in, costumed to fit in with their respective groups. 

Eric sat at the picnic table in his military work uniform. It consisted of a closed   
natural colored chemise, dark brown front lacing leather jerkin, dark venetians, knee   
socks and soft leather shoes. He toyed with his navy flat cap. He was in quiet   
conversation with Natalia. She wore a pale yellow, scoop necked chemise, blue front   
lacing bodice and a series of multi-hued skirts, some tucked up at the waistband,   
exposing the layer beneath. She, too wore the knee high stockings and soft leather shoes.   
On her head sat a blue flat cap that matched her bodice. 

“Where's Wolfe and Calleigh?” Eric asked. He was impatient to get back to work, but he   
knew that the meeting that they were about to have was just as important.

“Apparently, fitting into their respective groups is going to take a bit more work. Mr.   
Hicks said that their costumes were more complicated,” Horatio said as Ryan walked up,   
horse's body bobbing around him. 

Eric, unable to help himself, let out a snorting laugh. “Man, Wolfe, I always knew you   
were a horse's-” 

“Shut up Delko. It could be worse; I could be wearing a wooden toilet. Just give me a   
little dignity, here.” Ryan grouched. He sat on the edge of the bench and looked mildly   
miserable. 

“You know, Mr. Wolfe, the hobby horse goes far back into Pagan England's history-”   
Horatio began, but was cut off by a female voice. 

“Oh, dear Lord, this thing has it's own gravitational pull!” Calleigh exclaimed, sweeping   
up to the group after having had the gown hasten her descent from the upstairs costume   
shop. 

"Wow!” Eric commented at her emerald and gold appearance. It was like nothing he had   
seen, nor had any of them seen before. She was simply gorgeous in a very different way   
and he was entirely unprepared for his own reaction to her appearance. If anything, being   
as completely covered as she was made her seem more attractive to him. Was her waist   
really that tiny? He felt as if he could put his hands around it and the fingers just   
might touch. 

“You look like you just stepped out of a portrait,” Natalia commented. 

“Thanks, but I feel like an idiot,” Calleigh said, her cheeks flushing. She glanced at   
Ryan. “But you look like one.” 

“Thanks Princess,” he grumbled.

“Alright everyone, here's the plan. You spend the morning with your respective groups and   
interview, print and swab as many as possible. Calleigh, where's your firearm and pager?”   
Horatio asked. 

Calleigh gestured to the basket slung over her left arm. “In here. It's not ideal, but I   
can't exactly strap it anywhere else without tipping off the fact that I'm not part of   
the cast.” 

“Right,” Horatio agreed, checking his watch. 9:53. “We'll meet back here at 12:30, right   
before the midday parade and see if there are any leads. In the meantime, let's get to   
work.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Calleigh hustled down the corridor of the ME's complex, grabbed a spare lab coat and   
wrestled it over the shoulder rolls of her costume. Ignoring the raised eyebrows and   
puzzled expressions of the people she passed she hurried through the autopsy theater   
doors.

Alexx looked up from the body of Scott Friedman. “Well aren't you all fancy.” She raised   
an eyebrow at Calleigh's appearance. “What's with the get up?”

“Since we couldn't prevent the Faire from opening, we have to dress up to blend in with   
our respective troupes.” Calleigh stepped back and executed a very slow spin, unwilling   
to let the weight of her skirts wrench her lower back. The inset crystals flashed   
brightly in the theater's lighting. Gold glinted warmly from the partlet and bodice. “I   
am Susan Bertie, Lady Grey, Countess of Kent in the Royal Court since I've finished my   
half of the merchants off already. It's pretty, but that's about it. It's like carrying a   
very fancy wet burlap tarp around with you; heavy and confining. And don’t even get me   
started on the whole corset thing. And driving the Hummer in this get up was an   
adventure. What do you have for me?”

Alexx chuckled and held up a cross bow bolt. 'Pretty' doesn't cover it, baby girl. You're   
stunning. “Here's your projectile.”

Calleigh took it from her and looked it over with a practiced eye. “It's short which   
means that either it's from a bow that has a very short draw length like a Magyar horse   
bow or it's from a crossbow. Since there are only two parallel fletchings instead of   
three in a triangular pattern and there's no knocking point to secure the arrow to the   
string, I'd say this is a crossbow bolt. The shaft is wooden so I would rule out a modern   
crossbow simply because a wooden shaft would shatter upon impact with the target and this   
one is pristine. Since there's no blood on the fletchings other than aspiration, I'd say   
that it was fired from a bow with a draw strength of under 100 pounds.”

“Now how in the world do you know that honey?” Alexx's jaw dropped. She was used to   
Calleigh verbally rapid firing bullet characteristics all the time but she had been   
completely unprepared for her friend's knowledge of medieval weaponry. “Did that dress   
come with a medieval education CD ROM or something?”

Calleigh laughed at the incredulity of Alexx's tone. “No, bows are firearms and as is   
evidenced here, you can still kill someone with them. Besides, I'm a firearms expert.   
It's what I do. A firearm is a firearm. So what was the exact cause of death?”

“The arrow pierced his windpipe and the tip buried itself in the sixth cranial vertebrae.   
Baby boy choked to death on his own blood,” Alexx said sadly, stroking Scott's curly   
short hair. “He lasted long enough to know that he was dying.”

Calleigh closed her eyes briefly at the horror of it. “The Faire folk are taking this   
really hard. You wouldn't believe how co-operative they are. They want the killer as   
badly as we do. I've got to get back and let Horatio know what you found. Thanks, Alexx.”

 

 

“Hi guys, I know you have a show to do in a while, but I need to fingerprint you,” Eric   
said, setting down the leather bag that held his print scanner.

David Thomas, the head of the joust troupe and Master of Ceremonies for the jousting   
show, stepped forward, his articulated plate armor clanking noisily. “Listen, we'll be   
happy to let you ink up our hands after the 5:30 joust, but we have to keep our hands   
clean for the horses.”

“You won't have ink on your hands, sir.” Eric said, taking his scanner out and turning it   
on. “We use a scanner. It won't take but a couple of seconds to scan both hands. I can   
interview you as I go along. You won't be late for your show; I promise,” 

“Well, I can save you the trouble of interviewing us. None of my guys stayed here last   
night. We have a block of rooms up at the Value Inn on 50. We all left together,” David   
said as he allowed Eric to scan his hands. “Carl, quit fussing with Bo and get printed.”

“I'm not fussing. Someone’s been screwing around with my tack,” Carl grumbled, exiting   
Bo's stall. “I was just saddling Bo and the stirrups are too long.” To the world at large   
he asked, “Who the hell has been riding my horse?”

“What do you mean your stirrups are too long?” Another of the jousters stepped over to   
the stall and looked in. “You're the tallest guy here man. That’s impossible.”

Carl led him into the stall. “Look; that's where I normally keep the length. You can see   
the wear mark. But this is where the buckle is now. I didn't move it, Jim.”

“Hey, wait, don't touch anything. That could have the killer's fingerprints on it.”   
Eric’s head snapped around and he was off like a shot, closing the distance to the stall   
door in a few long strides. Looking over Carl’s shoulder he eyeballed the wear patterns   
before saying, “You can't use this tack. It's evidence and so is the horse. I'm going to   
have to process them for fingerprints and any other trace evidence. You're going to have   
to find another horse to ride for today.”

Carl shook his head. “Bo is my horse. You can't just take him.”

“Don't worry, no one will hurt him,” Eric reassured him quickly, taking the horse's lead   
and removing him from the stall. “He'll just be combed and looked over for evidence.   
He'll probably be a little spoiled, too.”

“But-”

“I promise that I'll have him back to you as soon as possible. He'll be well cared for.”   
Eric said, taking out his cell. He dialed a familiar number and waited. “Hey, Cal, can   
you come behind the Joust field as soon as you pull in? I have an evidence gathering job   
I need help on and you're the perfect person to help me.”

 

 

Calleigh looked up at the beautiful blonde horse and then back at Eric. “The horse is   
evidence.”

Eric grinned at her.”Yeah.”

“The horse is evidence.”

“Yeah.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You're not pulling my leg?”

“Nope.” Eric said, enjoying the look of disbelief on his partner's face. Calleigh being   
in a rare state of confusion was always funny in his eyes. “I'll take the tack; you take   
the horse.”

“Why do I get the horse?” she asked, grabbing hold of the lead and securing it to the   
back fence of the joust stables.

“Because you're from the country. Don't people in Louisiana own horses?” Eric asked,   
retrieving his printing powder and brush. He waked over to the picnic table and began   
printing the tack.

“Darnell is a small town, not farm country, Eric,” Calleigh said, annoyed. She took paper   
and a comb and began to comb the horse's coat for any foreign substances. “I've never   
owned a horse nor have I ever ridden one.”

“Oh.” Eris said, starting to lift prints from the tack. “His name is Bo.”

Calleigh folded the paper and slid it into an evidence envelope, sealing it shut and   
initialing it. “Whose name is Bo?”

“Your evidence.”

 

 

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” Horatio said as his team gathered behind the Globe   
Theater stage set, “We've almost nothing to go on. Our Faire folk check out clean with   
nothing more than a minor possession charges. Eric and Calleigh have some trace evidence,   
but since it's a time sensitive thing, what they got in the joust stable could have   
already been unknowingly compromised.”

“These people are the most squeaky clean group I have ever met, Frank is taking the   
evidence back to the Lab for me since I am not relishing another attempt at driving in   
this thing,” Calleigh said, fussing with her sleeve for a moment then looking up. “Until   
it's analyzed, we're at a dead end. What do you want to do?”

“I think we need to stay here and keep our eyes and ears open,” Horatio replied, and   
although not a sound was made, he knew each and every member of his team groaned   
inwardly. “Calleigh, did you manage to print the Queen?”

“You mean Actress Portraying Queen. She was very adamant about that; something about just   
being an actor and not actual royalty.” Calleigh shrugged; she’d heard far stranger   
things during an investigation. “Anyway, yes I have and she's just as clean as the rest.   
Just a couple of speeding tickets, which were all paid,” she said, using her feather fan   
to cool the sweat on her face. “I suppose this means we have to march in the Parade,   
then, huh?”

“You all are the best eyes and ears. Our killer could be on the Faire grounds,” Horatio   
said, still looking infuriatingly comfortable in his security uniform. He spread out a   
map of the parade formation, indicating each group in turn. “Mr. Wolfe, you and Ms. Boa   
Vista are situated in the front of the parade, Eric you're toward the middle and   
Calleigh, you're at the very end so that covers the entire line; keep your eyes and ears   
open for anything unusual.”

“In this crowd?” Ryan groaned and wiped the back of his neck with a cold, wet towel that   
Eric handed him. “You’re asking a lot boss.”

“Patrons on both extremes and every point in between,” Natalia said downing her third V8   
and tossing Calleigh her fourth. “And, if that wasn't enough, they all carry weapons.”

“I've counted four double headed axes, three Scottish claymores, eight great swords; I've   
lost count on how many rapiers and swords, fourteen longbows and recurves, two crossbows   
and any number of small daggers and knives,” Calleigh recounted, then downed her beverage   
in a single long series of swallows as a man in his middle thirties walked up to them.  
She recognized him as one of the Courtiers that she had interviewed earlier in the day.   
He was a sturdily built man wearing a green brocade doublet, half cape in black and green   
and plain black venetians. 

“Danny sent these over. He thought y'all might need them.” He held out a double handful   
of large soft pretzels all covered liberally in salt. “They're really great before   
Parade. The whole Court eats them; they really give you the boost to get through.” 

“Thanks, uhm....” Calleigh smiled brightly up at him, realizing for the first time that   
she was a little hungry. She took one of the proffered pretzels. “ It’s Chris, right?”

He returned her smile. “Yeah. Anyway, hanging out with us and doing what we do is hard   
enough on y'all without having to do your jobs on top of it. I hope it helps. Oh, and if   
you get hungry, Annie said that you can all snack off of our co-op table once it's set   
up. There's always more than enough food. But if you're brave enough to eat from the   
vendors, the portobella bangers or the hot, garlic, buttered mushrooms are the way to   
go.”

“That's a big help,” Horatio said, realizing that he, too, was getting hungry. “Tell   
Danny thank you for us.”

“I will and I'll let you get back to your meeting now. Sorry to interrupt.” Chris gave   
them a final grin and wave before moving off up the hill to finish resting before the   
all-cast mid-day parade stepped off.

“I cannot believe that our killer could be one of these people.” Natalia chewed   
thoughtfully, pacing. “They're so kind and giving. It just doesn’t add up.” 

She gestured to a flyer announcing the “Good Guys vs. Bad Guys” volleyball game in a   
couple of weeks to raise money for R.E.S.C.U. , the Renaissance Entertainers, Services   
and Crafters United, a foundation that raised money to aide faire participants in times   
of medical financial need. 

“I'm having a hard time getting my head around it, too, H,” Eric said, munching a   
pretzel. He lifted a metal tankard, taking a long swallow of his watered down sports   
drink. “Is there any chance that the killer isn't linked to the Faire?”

“It's very unlikely since Mr. Friedman was murdered by a crossbow bolt fired from a   
replica of a 16th Century crossbow. Alexx said there was a steep angle of entry, which   
meant he fired it from an elevated angle. The jouster's horse and tack had been tampered   
with. So, it stands to reason that our killer is familiar with the weaponry and is   
comfortable riding and shooting from horseback,” Horatio recounted for everyone as they   
began to move up the hill toward the line-up area.

“So, we may be looking for a disgruntled former jouster?” Eric asked.

Horatio nodded, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes. “It's not out of the realm of   
possibility.”

“Crown up!” Danny announced loudly up the hill, effectively breaking up the meeting.   
“Everyone line up!”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

 

“For God, St. George and Elizabeth...Hip, hip!” Lady Philadelphia Carey, Baroness Scrope   
of Bolton cheered as the Parade wound it's way along the sunny path lined with waving and   
cheering patrons.

Calleigh winced for the fourth time at the loudness of the woman's voice directly in the   
back of her head. “Huzzah!” she cheered along with the rest of the Court Ladies, her eyes   
scanning the gathered crowd with intensity for anything amiss or out of place. The bad   
thing was, when you're stuck inside a living anachronism, everything looked out of place. 

 

She smiled and waved, playing her part.

They turned left and entered a shaded street, two story shops towering over them, giving   
them a much needed respite from the intense South Florida sun. Cheering and waving   
patrons crowded the street, clustering in front of the shops. A shower of multicolored   
rose petals cascaded over Calleigh and she tried not to flinch from the sudden   
unexpectedness of it. Brushing a soft pink rose petal from her sleeve she smiled. Not   
everyone was out to commit murder today. Some people just wanted to brighten your day.   
Calleigh looked up at the balcony and waved at the outlandishly dressed Wenches Guilde   
who were continuing to throw handfuls of rose petals over the Court Ladies. 

They continued along, turning right and going slightly uphill. At the top of the rise was   
a woman in a wheel chair. Calleigh could see tears glistening on the woman's cheeks. She   
looked around for the possible cause of distress, but could find none. As they passed,   
making their way closer to a sunken in stage, Calleigh caught the woman saying something.

“So beautiful.....It's all so beautiful,” the woman wept in joy.

Calleigh felt a lump rise in her throat and blinked back a few tears of her own. The   
woman was weeping in joy at the sight of the performers parading and capering in front of   
her, not knowing how sorrowful and heavy their hearts were that day. She only knew the   
joy she felt at seeing them; perhaps a childhood dream realized. 

The looks on the faces of the performers told her that they knew this, too; this joy they   
could impart, the emotion they could invoke in their audiences by just being there for   
them. A fierce protectiveness that she never thought she'd feel for perfect strangers   
burned inside her. They were going to catch the killer. It would take a miracle for her   
not to squeeze the life out of him with her own bare hands.

“It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?” the woman in a dove gray and rose pink Flemish gown   
said beside her. She was Pat Fields, Danny's wife and Court costumer.

Calleigh nodded. “Yeah, I never knew you all could affect someone like that.”

“Why do you think we do it?”

They passed the faire ground's only working bakery and then down past the children's area   
and past the Celtic encampment and Action Stage. They crossed a small footbridge and then   
made a sharp turn to the right which brought them across the top of Cardiac Hill; so   
named by the Faire folk for it's steep grade, and then slightly uphill again under a   
thick canopy of trees on the right and a line of genteel shops to the left.

There was a brief flash of movement from the trees and then a crossbow bolt was buried in   
the crown of the Queen's tall riding hat. Calleigh caught it all and after glancing back   
to see that the woman was unharmed, she broke off, lifting her skirts slightly for better   
mobility, pushing through the crowd toward the Fairy Glen where the shot had originated. 

She spun in slow circles, peering up into the trees. The shot was lateral and the woman   
had been on horseback. 

Nothing. 

She scanned the line of patrons, but they all had their backs to her and were intent on   
watching the last of the parade. Her shooter had vanished into thin air, which was   
physically impossible..

“Damn!” She muttered. Looking around, Calleigh spotted Horatio coming toward her. She ran   
to meet him. “Is Beth alright?”

“She's fine; shaken, but fine. She finished the Parade and they're switching out her hat   
so we can bag it for evidence. She's insisting on continuing.” 

“There’s guts for you,” Calleigh commented.

“Uh-huh,” He removed his sunglasses and looked around. “What did you see?”

“I saw a flash of motion and then the bolt flew laterally out of the tree line. I broke   
away and came here, hoping to catch the shooter climbing out of the tree, but nothing.”   
Calleigh said, her voice laced with frustration. “He's vanished.”

“Alright, we know that Ms. Kantor is the next target. The killer is obviously good with   
the weapon, yet he misses killing her. Why?” Horatio mused. He looked down at Calleigh.   
Her face was flushed from the heat and exertion and a few stray tendrils of blonde hair   
had escaped from her carefully coiffed hairstyle and curled around her cheeks. “I need   
you stay with Ms. Kantor and keep her safe. I'm pulling the rest of the team from where   
they are and placing them in the Royal Court. Until then, I need you on Protective   
Detail.”

 

 

Within the hour the team had exchanged their original costumes for those of Courtiers.   
Calleigh sat on a bench in the backstage area of the Priory Stage and looked on in   
amusement at her teammates’ lack of familiarity in how their clothing worked. She had   
gone through the same thing not more than a few hours ago, but now that her body had   
adjusted to it's new constraints, she was highly amused in watching all of them. 

Ryan and Eric were dressed in what Tom Hicks had called Yeomen Red. They wore identical   
uniforms of the 16th Century Yeomen of the Guard, the Tudor Rose emblazoned in fine gold   
embroidery on their chests. In their hands they each held a long pole with a steel blade   
resembling a hatchet on the end. They were told that these items were called glaves and   
one of their long-standing Yeomen, Jacob Richards, was drilling them in how to properly   
handle the dangerous weapon.

Natalia and Horatio had changed as well. They both now wore costumes not unlike   
Calleigh's own. Natalia's was deep navy brocade, liberally embroidered and beaded with   
gold threads, pearls and sapphire blue crystals. On her head she wore a heavily starched   
and stiffened heart-shaped attifet that framed her face perfectly, giving an air of   
sweetness to it. The style and coloring of the gown made her large chocolate eyes become   
her most attractive and prominent feature. 

Natalia, in Calleigh's opinion, looked like she belonged, wearing those clothes with an   
ease that added to her already regal bearing and statuesque height. She fanned herself   
and laughed as Ryan and Eric's glaves collided with a loud clang and a soft curse. “Nice   
one guys!” she called.

“You wanna come out here and try this?” Ryan asked in an irritated tone.

Natalia shook her head, her eyes sparkling and the drill continued.

Calleigh's eyes were drawn to Horatio, who was only just then having a sword buckled to   
his hip. His bright blue eyes and flame red hair were set off perfectly by his chocolate   
brown, gold and navy accented doublet. There were gold edged slashes where navy silk   
puffs peeked and flashes of sapphire light glinted from each edge. His paned slops ended   
mid-thigh, revealing pale blue opaque stockings that disappeared beneath doe brown knee   
high riding boots. She rose and went to the cooler, pouring herself a goblet of cold   
water and exiting the backstage door to keep her eye on the Queen's welfare during the   
Royal Banquet.

“There; I think that works. How does it feel?” Danny Fields, the Guildemaster of the   
Royal Court asked, stepping back and surveying Horatio with a skilled eye. “It's a good   
thing that Bob and Linda were taking their girls to NASCAR this weekend. You two fit   
perfectly.”

“I'm not sure this sword is such a good idea,” Horatio said after turning and catching it   
in Natalia's skirts.

“You'll get used to it. Think about it like a stick shift,” Danny suppressed a grin..   
“When in doubt, place it in “park”.” He went to his bag and pulled out several sheets of   
paper. “For appearances' sake, I have to give you characters for the duration. Mr. Wolfe   
and Mr. Delko are already in their Yeomen personas and we can just keep the surnames for   
simplicity’s sake.”

“Hear that, Eric,” Natalia teased. “You have no personality.”

“Not from what the ladies say.” he bantered back, “You must be talking about Wolfe,” Eric   
ducked as Ryan's glave swung perilously close to his head. “Hey, careful with that!”

“You might not want to tease me, I have a deadly weapon in my hands,” Ryan shot back  
“And your big head is a really tempting target …”

“Gentlemen,” Horatio said warningly, though he was enjoying the banter. Turning to Danny   
he asked “You were saying, Mr. Fields?”

“Lt. Caine, you'll be taking over Bob's role for now. He's Sir Henry Stanley, Earl of   
Derby. You have a son on the cast today and he's our Priory's Master of Ceremonies. Ms.   
Boa Vista, you're to be playing his wife, Margaret Clifford, Lady Stanley, Countess of   
Derby.” Danny said, handing them both sheets of paper with brief character biographies on   
them.

“Living the high life, I can deal with that.” Natalia said with a grin.

Horatio scanned his bio quickly. “How necessary is this?”

“It'll keep you completely blended in with the rest of the court and they'll have   
something to call you. You are also our two highest ranking peers so you don't have to   
worry about things like giving deference to anyone except the Queen. The Yeomen bow to no   
one as long as they're escorting the Queen, which is what the two of them will be doing   
for the rest of the day,” Danny explained.

“Wait, this is funny, Horatio and I don't like each other?” Natalia said skimming the   
pages in her hand for a moment before asking. “Aren’t we supposed to be married?”

“Arranged marriage, he had a thing with a long term mistress and you were forced to   
acknowledge his bastard daughter by her and raise her as your own,” Danny explained   
succinctly. “Historically they fought like cat and dog and once the Queen herself had to   
order them to live in separate homes. Henry is a bit of a party boy and Margaret is a bit   
of a shopaholic. Think you two can have a little fun with that?”

A sly, playful smile crept around Natalia's lips. “Stand back and watch.”

“What about Calleigh's character?” Horatio asked. “What do we call her?”

“She is Susan Bertie, Lady Grey, Countess of Kent. To make it easy on her and allow her   
to do her job, we've put it around Court that Lady Kent is a beauty, but has all the   
attention span and intellect of a butterfly. That allows her to not bother with   
reverencing and acknowledging anyone higher than her. It also allows her to do what she   
needs to do when she needs to do it without it looking odd.” Danny said glancing at what   
the court had come to call the ‘Clock of Doom’. “Okay, it's nearly three o'clock. We're   
going to have to get Beth to the Joust with all of you in place. Wolfe, Delko, do what   
the guys tell you. Lt., I'm making you one of our Gentlemen Pensioners along with myself   
and Brian Horn. Ms. Boa Vista, you and Ms. Duquesne will be attending the Queen. Is that   
alright?”

Horatio nodded. “That'll keep us all in close proximity. I was thinking of leaving   
Detective Tripp in security so that he can watch from the outside and we can watch from   
inside.”

Danny grinned, grateful that he wouldn't have to try and find a costume to fit the big   
Texan. “Sounds like a plan. Shall we?”

 

 

“I think the back of my knees are sweating,” Natalia whispered to Calleigh as they   
gathered around the Queen while she removed her small body mike.

Calleigh grimaced. “I don't think I've ever sweat so much in my life.”

Beth looked up at her two new Ladies. “How are you doing? Are you well?”

“We should be asking you that,” Calleigh said. “Is there a plan or do we just wander   
aimlessly? I've never done this thing before.”

Eric turned his head so that he could see into the small knot of people. “I'm all for   
getting her someplace safe for a while. Anybody know when Tripp’s due back with news?”

“He called just before we left for the Joust and said that he was on his way back.”   
Horatio said, eyes alert and scanning for threats. “The Chief called Camden in so that he   
can look at that bolt from the hat and compare it to the other one pulled from our vic,” 

“I can go back to the Lab for analysis,” Calleigh offered.

“And leave us here? No way.” Horatio said with mock horror, Turning to Beth, he asked   
quietly “Ms.- I mean, Your Majesty, what do you normally do after the Joust is over? I   
think it might be best to keep to your routine. It'll make our killer feel more   
comfortable and he might be bold enough to try again. Are you up for it?”

“My Lord Earl, I was going to suggest that very thing, myself.” Beth replied managing to   
speak both as herself and her character simultaneously. It was a trick that several of   
the experienced re-enactors had mastered. “Indeed, my life is in danger, but the good   
patrons know that not and expect of me that I go forth amongst them all and show myself   
and make myself available to them. I have ne'er shirked my duties afore now and I shall   
not shrink from them this day.”

“But-” Danny began.

“Gilbert, thou knowest how I do feel on this my duty.” The Queen said clearly in a tone   
that commanded obedience. “I am not foolhardy and I do know that I have the finest   
constables in the entire county keeping me safe. If this doth help to draw the foul   
murderer forth from his cowardly hiding, than so be it. Now, as to a plan, I had hoped to   
make my way to some of the new merchants this day and greet them and welcome them to our   
good town of Cheshire.”

“Could we confine it to the smallest area possible until we catch the guy?” Calleigh   
asked softly, shifting her basket on her left arm, unobtrusively bringing her weapon   
closer to hand. Her lack of English accent and proper language forced her to keep her   
voice low. 

“Certes, Lady Kent, I wish no extra burden placed upon all of you. Your task is difficult   
enough without adding extra distance and territory. We shall hold close to the Priory   
yard and Action Stage. What say you all?” she asked, projecting forth every ounce of the   
Queen she was supposed to be playing.

“Yes, ma'am,” Horatio said, adjusting his hat over his eyes to block the bright sun and   
lamenting the absence of his sunglasses for the thousandth time. 

As a unit they stood back and reformed around the Queen as soon as they came off the   
reviewing stand. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon, scanning the crowds for real or perceived threats   
and trying to blend in with the seasoned Courtiers. At the end of the day with the   
patrons well on their ways home and the gates shut for the night, they sent Beth home   
with a radio car escort and all returned to the Lab to finish processing the evidence.

 

 

Eric rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on the computer in Fingerprints. 11:30 p.m.   
do you know where your brain is …? He stretched and rose from his seat and made his way   
to the break room for some coffee. He found Horatio there, also nursing coffee and   
munching on a sandwich.

Horatio looked up. “Did the prints from the tack check out in AFIS?”

“Dead end H; they were too smudged for even a partial, and the others I found all check   
out as belonging to the guys in the Joust troupe.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and   
sat down. “It's possible the guy isn't in the system. I'm really starting to believe that   
this guy is from the outside.”

“Calleigh said the same thing about an hour ago. The cross bow bolt was a match, by the   
way,” Horatio admitted. “Why don't you go home, Eric, and get some sleep? We have to be   
back on site in the morning for round two.”

“Oh no,” Eric groaned. “Not another day in those getups?”

“I'm afraid so. We have a call time of 7:45 a.m., so you'd better get going,” Horatio   
said, finishing his near midnight snack and standing up. “I'm on my way out, myself.”

Eric nodded and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain, washed the cup, retrieved   
his things from his locker and drove home for much needed sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

 

The smell of cooking bacon assaulted the sleepy CSI's as they piled out of the Hummers   
early the next morning. Eric's stomach rumbled. “I didn't eat breakfast.”

Calleigh looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “And this is my issue, why exactly?”

“I'm just saying,” Eric grumbled as they entered the back gate of the Priory yard's   
backstage area. “You might have to scrape me off the ground later when my blood sugar   
crashes.”

“In your dreams Eric!” she retorted smartly, giving him a friendly shove.

The actors hustled to and fro, setting things up for the day. A couple of the ladies were 

 

doing their hair in the mirrors, some were putting in contact lenses and one man was   
filling three big coolers with water, dumping in powdered sports drink mix into two,and   
stirring them vigorously before dumping in entire bags of ice. Three older gentlemen   
passed them, chatting animatedly, each wearing an identical t-shirt exclaming: ‘Old Farts 

 

Cheshire Tour 1574’. A cavernous garage-like structure already had its main door rolled   
open and they could see all the furniture and decorations that were out on the set the   
day before nestled inside.

“Danny,” Horatio grabbed the young man by the arm as he hurried by. “Where can we set   
up?”

“We’ll get the lock-up emptied and you can stow your things in there; in the mean time,   
make yourselves at home.” Danny replied, checking the day's duty roster. “Unless you have 

 

a major objection, I've put your team on the same afternoon duty rotation as yesterday.”

“No,” Horatio replied, liking the younger man more and more with each passing moment.   
“No, that's good.”

“Hey, Danny,” a short, stocky man in a military style outfit said, sticking his head in   
the back gate. “I heard you have the care and feeding of the investigators. Think they'd   
want some breakfast? You know the boys always make too much.”

“I dunno, Rick. Why don't you ask them?” Danny replied with a grin. “They're standing   
right in front of you.” 

The man flushed, introduced himself as Rick Cochrane, the Guildemaster for the Military   
Guilde and invited them over for bacon and eggs. The team accepted gracefully over the   
growling of Eric’s stomach and wandered off toward the smells of cooking food. Once the   
team had eaten, they thanked the military guilde and returned across the garden to the   
Royal Court. 

A tall, barrel-chested fellow, arms tattooed, long hair in a neat ponytail ambled up to   
the group and handed each a Mountain Dew. “I'd drink it if I were you. Nectar of the   
Gods! It's better than an energy drink and it'll help wake you up. Trust me, you'll be   
kicking yourself in about an hour if you don't,” He said with an air of deep knowledge   
about such things. “By the way, I'm Kevin Laughlin, the host noble.” 

“Thanks Kevin,” Calleigh had met and spoke at length with the man the day before. He and   
his real life wife were playing the host nobles and in truth were kind and generous   
people. “I really need this.” 

She took the cap off and let the cold, bubbly soft drink cascade down her throat,   
surprising her in her body's want of it. “So I suppose this is another renn faire   
ritual?”

“You got it.” He smiled down at her. “Oh, and ladies, when it's time to get dressed, let   
me know if you need help tying your corsets. My wife can point you in the direction of   
the best lacers.”

Calleigh returned his smile. “Thank you, we will.”

 

 

“Alright,” Horatio said, rolling his shoulders, trying to get comfortable in his courtier 

 

outfit. “We shadow the court today until Beth comes out. I've spoken with Mr. Fields and   
he's paired you up with experienced courtiers so that you'll be able to blend in better.   
As always, keep your eyes and ears open to anything not quite right.”

“Besides that, is there anything else we need to be doing?” Calleigh asked, fanning her   
already flushed face. Her ribcage ached mildly with the constraint of the corset, even   
though it wasn't tied as snugly as it was the day before. The lady who tied her in,   
Karen, told her it was because her body wasn't used to it; that the discomfort would fade 

 

in a few hours as her body readjusted to the garment. Yeah right.

“I hate to say this, since we're still investigating a murder,” Horatio said dryly as he   
caught a signal from Danny for the team to join the Court for introductions. “But, enjoy   
yourselves, ladies and gentlemen.” 

 

 

The team ambled over to where the near fifty actors portraying the Court of Elizabeth   
Tudor sat upon benches or rested against trees. Several of them were still fussing with   
the last minute details of their costumes. 

Kathryn, the kind, plump woman that had fixed Calleigh's hair the day before, grabbed her 

 

arm and firmly sat her on a bench. “You're not done, you know.”

Calleigh sighed. “Do you all have to do this every day?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kathryn mumbled around a mouthful of bobby pins as she gently brushed out   
Calleigh's thick blonde hair.

“Why doesn't Natalia have to do this?”

“Because,” Kathryn said patiently, beginning the complex process of fashioning a period   
coiffure “her style of head covering gives her the ability to only fuss with the front   
instead of the whole head. Besides, it would be a shame to cover all this hair. And,   
trust me; wearing any kind of a hat just makes it all feel hotter.”

Calleigh blushed. “Thanks.” She looked up as Danny began to speak.

“As most of you know, Scott Friedman was murdered near the Joust field on Friday night   
and there was an attempt on Beth's life during the mid-day Parade yesterday. For those of 

 

you that are just starting today, you know nothing of this because Lisa has ordered a   
media blackout until the murderer can be caught. To that end, we are hosting the   
Miami-Dade Crime Scene Investigation team that is assigned to the murder. We are to offer 

 

them every courtesy. Would Lt. Caine and his team step forward, please?” 

Horatio and the rest, save Calleigh, who was still having her hair dressed, stood and   
took the small gazebo-style stage. Danny addressed everyone in turn, giving their real   
and character names. He urged the Court to extend all courtesy and co-operation. He read   
off the pairing off of the CSI's with the experienced Courtiers for the morning. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, buddy up and have a good time.” Danny looked over his   
guilde with pride and exchanged a knowing glance with his APQ, who nodded. “Let's get to   
the gate. May the force be with you,”

And also with you,” the court echoed back with grins. 

 

 

“Have you broken your fast?” Michele, “Lady Paget-Carey” asked Calleigh as they wandered   
away from the front gate.

Calleigh was mildly puzzled. “Excuse me?”

Michele leaned in closer and dropped her voice. “Did you have breakfast?”

“Oh, sorry; yes, I did. The Military fed all of us,” Calleigh replied. “Forgive me; I   
have no idea how to speak.”

“'Tis well, my Lady Countess. You have been long from Court and the ways may be strange   
unto you and our speech different.” Lady Paget-Carey smiled indulgently, falling back   
into character with an ease that, to Calleigh at least, was unnerving. “You have been in   
the country for so very long. Do you mind if we stop here? I have not broken my fast and   
wish for some sausages.”

Calleigh nodded, turning her back to her “buddy” to take in the first of the crowds,   
already on high alert. The first of the patrons had already made it past the mushroom   
booth they stood at. Courtiers began to filter past, all stopping to give her deference.   
Finally, she saw Horatio turn toward her around the town square pub. She broke into a   
smile as relief flooded her. Someone to share the watch-keeping. Taking a clue from   
Paget-Carey, she dropped a curtsy.

Horatio stepped in to speak privately, noting how she seemed to relax as soon as she saw   
him. “Everything alright?”

“I'm fine. I just want to catch this guy so badly that it hurts, you know?” Calleigh said 

 

softly. “The people that work here and the people that patron this place deserve to feel   
safe.” 

“I couldn't agree more.” Horatio smiled slightly, hearing the fierceness in her soft   
southern voice. He felt just as protective over everyone as well. “Keep your eyes open   
and maybe we can close this today. If the killer made an attempt yesterday and gave us   
the slip, then it stands to reason they’ll arrogant enough to try again today.”

“I hope so,” Calleigh growled as Lady Paget-Carey tugged on her arm. “Because I want him   
so badly that I can taste it!” 

“My Lady Countess, let not Lady Derby find you in so close congress with my Lord Derby.”   
Paget-Carey said with a stern face. “We must away if all is well,” 

Calleigh nodded mutely, falling into her role as the quintessential dumb blonde. “But   
he's pretty,” she said lightly, with what she hoped was a vapid smile and trying gamely   
for an English accent. Her accent made it just off the eastern shore of North Carolina,   
but it was a start.

Horatio stifled a laugh at hearing Calleigh sound so brainless; knowing that she was   
anything but. And there was a list of convictions as long as his arm to prove it. Danny,   
or rather now that the grounds were open to the public, Sir Gilbert Talbot, Lord Talbot,   
tugged his arm, dragging him in the opposite direction.

Horatio allowed himself to be lead away, with completely feigned reluctance, to tour the   
faire grounds - Lord Talbot happily playing tour guide. They made the ritual morning stop 

 

at the local bakery for some breakfast pastries and then proceeded to make their way to   
the glass shop to ogle the new goblets and tumblers as they glinted and sparkled in the   
morning sun.

Danny held up a burgundy and amber one, turning it so that he could see the swirled   
pattern on the bottom. He showed Horatio its beauty. “Sandra is a master craftsman at   
this. She hand blows each and every goblet. She's even started taking apprentices this   
year.”

Horatio held up another goblet and aped Danny's actions, marveling at the workmanship.   
The goblet was heavy, but it looked extremely sturdy. “She's an artist. Are these as   
sturdy as they look?”

His companion turned and whacked the goblet against a tree trunk. It made a solid thunk   
but was entirely undamaged. “We've had goblets fall from their holders, hit the ground   
and get kicked into all sorts of objects. The only things that seem to ever break them   
are crashing them into each other, concrete and the Maids of Honor. Those girls somehow   
manage to break at least three goblets a year.” Danny shook his head, then shrugged “I   
think they joust with them or something.”

They spent more time in the glass shop, accepting some lemonade and cookies from one of   
the workers before taking their leave and moving off to other shops until the time came   
for them all to meet back in the Priory yard for morning dance practice. The team   
immediately headed backstage to meet.

“Did anyone see anything?” Horatio asked.

“Other than women wearing chainmail who should definitely NOT be allowed anywhere near   
it? No.” Eric shook his head. “Man, it was like cottage cheese in a strainer. Definitely   
a visual I can do without.”

“Three Imperial Stormtroopers, four Cap'n Jack Sparrows and a World War II guy,” Ryan   
said, downing water. “Otherwise, I'm out.” 

“I saw them too. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Lady Scrope had to stuff   
her handkerchief into my mouth to stop me.” Natalia snickered. “But other than that,   
nothing. Are you sure this guy is going to try again today; could we just be spinning our 

 

wheels?”

“It's possible that he's not on site yet. The Parade doesn't step off for another hour   
and a half and yesterday he didn't make his move until the Parade,” Horatio said,   
removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We'll just have to wait and   
see.”

Natalia fanned her flushed face and drank thirstily from her goblet. “How do these people 

 

do this?”

“We have constitutions of concrete elephants,” a petite red-head in an all black velvet   
and gold lace dress said, cracking open a can of carbonated water and pouring it's   
contents into her goblet. She gave everyone an impish smile.“Just kidding; you get used   
to it. It’s a mind set, you go into the day knowing that you're going to be uncomfortable 

 

and just drink plenty of fluids. If you haven't been to the port-a-priv yet, you need to   
drink more.”

“Hey, I forgot to ask,” Natalia said, “but how do you go to the bathroom in these   
things?”

“Well....” A smile played around the woman's lips. “Very carefully. You lift your skirts, 

 

drop your whatever, back yourself up and pray thatyou can reach everything with the   
toilet paper. I'm sorry that I can't be more helpful. That's why the real courtiers had   
body servants. Sorry.”

“Thanks.....I think,” Natalia said queasily as the woman left to go back on stage. She   
tossed a damp rag at Calleigh, who was stifling laughter. “What are you laughing at?”

“Been there, done that. It's an experience,” Calleigh laughed. “But seriously, listen to   
her. I ended up feeling really light-headed just before we all paraded up to the Parade   
yesterday. I wasn't drinking enough and had gotten pretty dehydrated. I'm glad someone   
caught it. I wouldn't be sitting here today.”

Horatio frowned in concern at her. “Why didn't you say something?”

“Because it was minor and it passed. I'm fine.” She glanced at the Clock of Doom as Danny 

 

hustled into the backstage area and shooed everyone, including the team out for morning   
dance practice. 

 

 

The team fanned themselves out to watch the crowd for anyone looking predatory;   
occasionally chatting with the veteran courtiers that they had been buddied up with to   
have them point out the regulars that took in the Court's portion of the show as if it   
were a soap opera. Those few were immediately dismissed as suspects. 

Natalia got pulled into a slow and stately Pavanne by the Lord Admiral.

“But, I don't know it,” she protested quietly.

“Worry not, Lady Derby.” He smiled at her warmly, “It is simple and I shall talk you   
through it.”

She glanced to Horatio for help. “Henry?”

“Take her for as long as you wish.” He said in a bored tone, remembering that they were   
supposed to despise each other. “At least I do not have to dance with her.” His comment   
earned him a glare from Natalia that promised retribution as the Lord Admiral escorted   
her onto the dance floor. He felt, rather than saw Calleigh sidle in next to him.

“At least she got the Pavanne. It looks nice and easy and gentle. Yesterday, when you all 

 

were getting your costumes from wardrobe, Lord Talbot pulled me out for a dance called   
the Musician's Revenge,” she commented quietly.

“What's the “revenge” part?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “The dance changes tempo without warning. It was brutal.”

He laughed as the dance ended and Natalia gratefully left the dance floor. Everyone's   
attention was drawn upward, onto the ramparts when Yeoman Van Dunne cried, “Oyez, oyez,   
my Lords and Ladies! Her Majesty approaches the gates of the city!”

Horatio offered Calleigh his arm, copying what the other court men were doing. “Lady   
Kent?”

She slipped her hand over his. “I'd be delighted.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

 

Horatio lounged in an overstuffed chair near the mouth of the Priory yard while the Royal   
Banquet went on. He reached over and grabbed another piece of watermelon while a   
wandering minstrel sang of a pretty lass with blue eyes. He was keeping a close eye on   
all of his CSI's after hearing Calleigh's account of her close call with dehydration.   
Natalia was strolling toward the garden, chatting with a few of the female courtiers and   
snacking on fruit, making certain to drink. Eric and Ryan had gone back stage to get   
something more substantial and Calleigh popped this and that into her mouth around   
serving Her Majesty behind the Table of State. 

They were all going to be attending again that afternoon and were taking the advice of   
the veteran performers around them very seriously. Anyone who thought that this was   
merely a grand game of dress-up needed their head examined. A stern looking woman dressed   
all in black and reminding him very much of the nuns in his parish church walked over to   
him with a pitcher of water. She made to fill his goblet.

“No, thank you,” he said politely.

“You may be an Earl, but I still know what is best for you. You will accept it and drink,   
my Lord,” she said firmly.

“Then if you insist; I will.....uhm....”

“Mistress Blanche Parry,” she supplied him.

“Thank you, Mistress Parry,” Horatio replied, his inexperience making him use the   
incorrect form of address. In her kindness and understanding, Mistress Blanche did not   
correct him. He sipped from the goblet. The water was cold and it cascaded down his   
throat in a blissful waterfall. He wished he could just pour it over his head and be done   
with it. 

She reached over and patted his cheek. “That's a good boy,” she said indulgently like the   
nursemaid she was before disappearing into the crowd.. 

“My pater is not having a liaison with Lady Kent!” Sir Ferdinando Stanley, Lord Strange   
of Knowkin exploded in a stage whisper directly to Horatio's right. “She's addle-pated!”

“But that is what I heard, Lord Strange,” Sir Henry Lee, Queen's Champion, said. “It   
would surprise me not as she doth have a comely visage and your father is not immune.   
Half the men in the Court are smitten by her beauty and the other half in love with her.”

“If that is half-in-half,” Lord Strange replied in a scoffing tone “Then a full quarter   
of the men are as addle-pated as she!”

 

“You find her not pleasing to the eye?” Lee persisted, as though he had serious doubts   
about the strength of the other man’s protestations.

“But a pain to the ears and an ache to the brain,” Strange explained. “She prattles and   
prates of things of no consequence. That the woman can string words together to form a   
single coherent thought is but nigh onto a miracle!” 

Horatio bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. These people are amazingly   
funny. “Ah, but if one shuts his ears off, son,” Horatio said mildly. “She is a sight to   
behold.”

“Father, I knew not that you had o'erheard!” Lord Strange exclaimed. He turned to Henry   
Lee. “Be off with thee now, man. Embarrass me no longer.”

Horatio watched as Henry Lee took center stage and addressed the Queen and assembled   
patrons. 

“Majesty, far be it from me to interrupt your Banqueting, but it is that time of day that   
our brave knights tilters assemble themselves, and donning armor, mount themselves upon   
their steeds and-”

“Is there a point to this Sir Henry?” the Queen asked mildly, interrupting his ramble and   
earning a few giggles from the audience.

“Yes there is, Your Majesty,” Henry stammered.

“Then get on with it, man.”

“Majesty, your brave knights tilters have assembled-”

“We have already established that.” She replied, making an idle gesture that caused the   
jewels on her fingers to wink in the light.

“Yes, well....” Henry appeared to be at a loss as to how to continue 

The Queen rolled her eyes in mock irritation and sighed. “The point, Henry; while I'm   
still Queen,” she said, earning yet more laughter from the audience.

“The point, Your Majesty is the Joust!” he said triumphantly.

The Queen's face lit with delight and she removed her napkin from her shoulder, tossing   
it neatly over her nearly empty plate. “Why did you not just say so?”

Henry opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for water as the table was removed   
and all the Ladies of the Court surrounded Her Majesty as she readied herself for the   
Joust.

Danny tapped Horatio on the shoulder and handed him the bec du corbin that he was to   
carry. The three pronged weapon rested easily against his shoulder as he waited for the   
Ladies to part and the Queen to advance through them. He scanned the remaining patrons   
for anything out of the ordinary and could find nothing.

Finally the Ladies parted and the Queen stepped through, Natalia and Calleigh trailing in   
her wake. Horatio took up his place directly to the Queen's right, slightly ahead of   
Calleigh. 

He glanced back at her. “Did you drink enough?”

“I'm fine,” she replied quietly.

He looked at Natalia, “And you?”

Natalia nodded. “I'm good.”

The Queen looked up at Horatio. “The welfare of this team is utmost in thy mind, my Lord   
Earl?”

“Always, Your Majesty; always.”

 

 

The Joust over, they clustered around Beth as she removed the microphone, handing it off   
to a stage manager. Horatio leaned in. “Same plan as yesterday?”

“Thou hast seen nothing suspicious during the Joust?” she asked.

“Not a thing,” he replied, glancing at the others. The rest of the team added their   
agreement.

“If he is here, then we must needs draw him out into the open, aye?” she stated, still   
halfway in Queen Mode.

“What do you have planned?” Eric asked, glancing back at her.

“I think me that we shall attempt to visit the new merchants near Lake Elizabeth this   
day. If he is here, that shall put him square in the open with no tree cover to hide him   
from the keen eyes of my vigilant Courtiers,” she said bravely. “The plan is not flawed;   
I have dwelt on it much overnight. Though it placeth me in mortal danger, it may be of   
use to force his hand. I cannot see him as wanting to be cautious and wait for next   
weekend.”

Horatio nodded his head in admiring agreement. “Then if you're willing to do it, we will.   
Are you sure you don't want to work for MDPD? You'd make a great profiler. We could use   
one on this team to run the victimology full-time.”

She smiled up at him, her grin nearly as blinding as Calleigh's, her sapphire blue eyes   
twinkling at the compliment on her intellect. “Thank thee but nay. This weekend hath been   
worrisome enough without performing thy duties as well. I can imagine how difficult it is   
upon all of thee. I could not do it. Believe me or nay, but this Queening it hath it's   
rewards in plenty. Thou dost not know the impact one can have on another's life, aye?”

Calleigh nodded in agreement; the only one of the team to do so. The statement called to   
mind the weeping patron during the Parade and how it moved Calleigh's own heart to see   
it. “There are rewards to our jobs as well, you know. Putting the bad guys away has a   
certain satisfaction to it.”

“This is not drawing the villain into the open.” Beth rose, motioning everyone to back   
away so that she could pass through them. “We should be on the move. It will look too   
suspicious if we cower here.”

“I was wrong,” Horatio backed up and said into Eric's ear, “maybe S.W.A.T. would be more   
her game.”

Eric chuckled as he moved to take up his position to the left and slightly in front of   
the Queen. 

They moved out and away from the reviewing stand and up into the Faire grounds. Slowly,   
for nearly every patron they met wanted a picture with or wanted to speak to the Queen,   
they made their way out toward the Lake Elizabeth area, a place devoid of trees; a   
virtual Serengeti of sorts. The hot south Florida sun beat down on them, relentless and   
harsh, as the Queen visited each and every new merchant, welcoming them personally,   
making them feel wanted. Several times merchant's assistants rushed out to the entourage   
and filled tankards and goblets with cool water so that no one would suffer from the heat   
and humidity more than was entirely necessary. A pickle merchant sent them all a   
complimentary sample from his wares, instructing them to eat, for the pickle would   
restore what they had lost in perspiration. The team accepted the advice and gifts with   
good grace, knowing that the people were speaking from experience. The generosity and   
care still stunned them.

Despite the kindness and generosity of the shopkeepers, the team kept scanning the   
gathering crowds with sharp vigilance. The hot sun and glare off the plain around them   
made it hard to focus for very long; each of them had to look away at a darker interior   
of a shop or close their eyes briefly to clear their vision. In a place where everything   
could mean something or nothing - and nothing was quite as it seemed - the task was   
wearing and exhausting. Finally, after what felt like an eternity inside the sun itself,   
the Queen turned the entourage toward the distant shade of Farnam's Meadow and much   
needed relief from the sun. 

“We shall head toward the Celtic area for a short rest afore I must needs stop the Mayor   
and all of his foolishness.” She turned back to her entourage. “I think me that all of   
thee shall be glad of the respite, being unused to the rigors of Progress.”

“That, Your Majesty,” Horatio said, wiping the sweat that was running down his now   
crimson face.  
“Is possibly the understatement of the year.” 

She smiled her brilliant smile up at him. “I do thank all of thee for thy patience and   
vigilance…”

The flash of sun on bare steel was almost out of her peripheral vision; but Calleigh   
caught it and turned her head just in time to see the raised crossbow aimed directly at   
Beth. Without thinking, she dropped the glass goblet she was carrying and launched   
herself at her charge. 

“Get down!” She tackled Beth with every bit of strength she had, knocking her to the   
ground. There was a sharp pain in Calleigh's right arm. She looked down to see a torn   
sleeve and blood welling lazily from the cut the fletchings gave her as the bolt narrowly   
missed her. Anger welled and bubbled over as she stood. 

“He shot my dress!” was all she could manage to splutter with any coherence. “It's a   
rental!”

Before anyone could react properly, Calleigh grabbed her firearm, hiked her skirts and   
tore after the now visible and fleeing assailant; she chased him through and around the   
crowds of patrons, who obviously thought it was all part of the show. 

He had just begun to gain distance from her when she saw a trio of court women. Using   
what she had been told to use only in extreme circumstances she gathered all the air she   
could and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Hey Rube! The guy with the bow!”

The raised alarm was like liquid lightning. The smallest of the Courtier women,   
Thomasina, the Queen's Own Dwarf, grabbed the walking stick of her companion, Mistress   
Blanche Parry, and neatly tripped the fleeing assailant. He tumbled to the ground,   
stunned, the crossbow skittering to a halt just out of his reach. Shopkeepers, performers   
and Friends of the Faire swarmed the suspect, giving him no escape as Calleigh jogged up,   
panting. 

“Don't. Move.” She bit out, leveling her weapon directly at his head. “MDPD. I'll blow   
your head off.” 

Horatio was the first to arrive, Frank seconds behind him. “Cuff him, Frank.”

Frank removed the handcuffs from his belt, snapping them open. “It will be my distinct   
pleasure, Horatio.” He cuffed the assailant, hauling him roughly to his feet. “Let’s go   
Robin Hood.”

Horatio turned his attention to Calleigh. Her weapon was now lowered and she was panting   
heavily, fighting the corset and bodice for air. Her face was bright red and her hair had   
begun to come down from the intricate coif. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “I will be....once....I catch.....my breath.” She grinned up at him, clearly   
pleased with herself. She pointed to a stunned Thomasina. “She's the one that got him.”

A sense of relief washed over him. Horatio tore his attention away from his obviously   
winded second and looked down at the diminutive woman that Calleigh had indicated. 

He knelt to look her in the eye. “You're Katie, right?”

“Yes,” she said shakily.

“Because of your quick thinking, you helped catch the guy that killed Scott Friedman.   
Thank you,” he said sincerely.

The realization of her part in the scheme of things dawned on her, still shaking, yet   
bursting with pride and happiness; she smiled at him, braces glinting in the dappled   
sunlight. “You're welcome. I-I just reacted. She yelled “Hey Rube”. I did the only thing   
that came to mind. I grabbed Hannah's walking stick and stuck it out. I guess I was just   
in the right place at the right time.”

“Well, I'm glad you were,” Horatio stood as Danny trotted over.

“Is everyone alright?” he asked.

“Everyone is fine,” Horatio smiled up at him. “And this young woman here caught the   
killer for us.”

Danny smiled. “I always knew Thomasina was fierce.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

The team sat, still in their Courtier outfits, behind the first aide tent to fill each   
other in. With them sat Court Guildemaster Danny Fields, the head of security, John   
Franks, and Lisa Peters, the General Manager of the Faire. One of the first aide medics   
was just finishing laying a bandage over Calleigh's cut.

“The assailant was a Mr. Roger Ziegler. Is that name familiar?” Horatio asked.

“Roger?” Lisa's eyes widened. “He-he used to run our in-house Joust troupe years ago.   
Corporate made us give him and the troupe the pink slip because the insurance rates on   
them were too high. He dropped out of sight for years. The next thing I know is Scott   
telling me that Roger tried to hire him away from here to be the General Manager for the   
Faire that he was starting. Scott turned him down flat; then Scott was killed. I can't   
believe Roger killed him.”

“Believe it, Ms. Peters. He confessed to the whole thing.” Horatio's voice was gentle.   
“He's going away on counts of murder and attempted murder.”

“Apparently, Ms. Peters, Roger Ziegler was attempting to open his own festival and was   
having a hard time getting a management staff together. Yours is not the only one in   
South Florida and he made the mistake of trying to break into an already glutted market.   
No one was biting,” Calleigh said softly, wincing slightly at the tautness of her   
bandage. “He was at the end of his rope and trying to recruit your staff was his last   
option before his investors pulled out.”

“I never thought Roger would do something like this.” Danny shook his head sadly. “He   
always was a shining example of the tenants of Knighthood; he made all his jousters   
memorize them.”

Lisa raised her head. “I've spoken to Corporate and they wish for me to extend to you and   
your team their deepest thanks and gratitude and wish to extend to all of you what they   
can; lifetime passes to the park and free food and drink for life. It's not much, but   
it's what they can offer.”

“I'm afraid that we can't accept the gift, ma'am.” Horatio said. “As county officers, we   
aren't allowed to do so.” 

“You have to accept something.” Lisa persisted. “You know that we're all grateful beyond   
words for what you all have done for us; please allow us to show you how much.”

Horatio looked around at his overheated and exhausted team. They deserved something   
special; being in period clothing and adhering to the Court routine while still doing   
their jobs went above and beyond as far as he was concerned. “I'm sure we can think of   
something that would be within legal constraints.”

“Lt. Caine, are you all planning on leaving anytime soon?” Danny asked.

“We have reports to write and plenty of evidence to log,” Horatio said. “We do need to   
get back to the Lab.”

“Could you all stay through Late Audience?” Danny asked “It would mean a lot to the   
Guilde; to show you our appreciation,” 

“Horatio, the case is closed and the reports can wait. We have the killer in custody with   
his full confession.” Calleigh looked up at Horatio; perhaps it was the better   
understanding in her eyes that truly spoke to him. “Let them do it.”

Horatio gazed at her, taken off guard by her insistence. “Well....”

“Yeah, let them go ahead and do whatever,” Eric piped up. “They're really some incredible   
people.”

Horatio saw the desire to stay mirrored in everyone’s eyes. “With such pleas, how can I   
resist? Mr. Fields, we'll stay.”

Danny's face lit. He quickly counted noses. “Excellent!”

 

The Priory garden was full to capacity with patrons as well as performers as Late   
Audience began. The CSI's were corralled onto the front benches as Danny stepped forward.

“I, as Guildemaster of this assembled Court ask a boon of all of you; I wish to speak   
from my heart, which I am certes will echo the whispering hearts of my fellow Courtiers   
and even unto the denizens of Cheshire. It is not often that we have a grave tragedy   
happen on these enchanted grounds - and even rarer is the inclusion of a diligent and   
most sensitive collection of strangers to aid in easing the tragedy. On Friday evening we   
lost one of our own to a violent end. The broadsides will carry the news this evening.   
Into our shock and sorrow strode six strangers that, through their dedication to truth   
and sensitivity to us all, helped ease our sorrow and ferret out the offender and send   
him to justice. They are strange to us no longer and are now to be counted as family.   
Your Majesty?”

The Queen stood and took center stage. “Lord Talbot is correct in his recounting of the   
events of this most trying of weekends. Into our midst and over the course of two days,   
into our hearts, six remarkable individuals gave us all everything they had, up to and   
including assimilating themselves into the Court with good grace and humor. I personally   
am grateful for this very day one Lady did save my life at the very peril of her own; I   
am now made safe, as all of you as well, by these outstanding Courtiers. I wish to call   
forward Sir Henry Stanley, Earl of Derby,” Her Majesty said as Horatio stood and was   
prodded to stand beside her. 

She recited each name, ending with Frank, still in his security uniform. All took their   
place at her side, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“This is a most unusual gathering; for they are not of this Court nor are they   
ambassadors from any Court of any Faire town. They come as the bringers of justice and   
searchers for the truth. It is not of their customs to accept any manner of gift in   
thanks for their services, yet we knew we must do something to show them our esteem. I   
and my Court wish to induct them into the Order of the Rose, our most precious and prized   
Order, for those that are inducted into it are done so for unusual service. Gilbert?” Her   
Majesty said, stepping back from the team. 

“Your Majesty,” Danny stepped forward. “I had nearly forgotten. Your own Dwarf,   
Thomasina, did aid in the capture of the criminal and deserves to be recognized as well.   
She heard Lady Kent's alarm and thought swiftly, using Blanche Parry's walking stick to   
trip the felon and allow his capture. Thomasina, will you join the honorees?”

Thomasina du Paris rose from her seat at the Queen's feet and took her place of honor.

Danny stepped up to each team member and pinned a Tudor Rose pin, a green and white   
ribbon hanging from it, to each and every member of the team, embracing them as he did   
so. He placed a light kiss on both Natalia and Calleigh's cheeks. 

He turned back to the assembled audience. “These are no Courtiers, as Her Majesty said;   
all but our own Thomasina are constables from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab and we at the   
South Florida Renaissance Faire are eternally grateful for their fine service and good   
humor. Three cheers for our guests and heroes! Hip, hip!”

The huzzahs rang out for a count of three and then the team returned to their benches   
with warm hearts and a new, deep appreciation for the folk who worked that Faire; for   
their kindness, co-operation and dedication to their individual crafts. 

The next day was Monday and those folk around them would go back to their day jobs, but,   
Horatio had already decided, it would be a day off for his entire team. They deserved it.


End file.
